Z rummaged through her shelf drawers. Her friend had sent her a message telling her that she wanted something back. It was an envelope that she had given Z for safekeeping. At the time, she didn’t want her friends to see it, but now she wanted it back. It had been more than two weeks now; Z had no idea where it was. She was ashamed to admit how quickly her memory failed her. She had kept it safely on the day, but now…
She sighed as she made an impulsive decision to upturn her drawers on the bedroom floor. Might be easier to find, she thought. Trust her friend to make her do something like this on her own birthday.
An hour later, she realized how highly unnecessary that action was; she still hadn’t found it. Exhausted, she flopped onto her back on the floor. Her eyes wandered as they landed on a shoebox under the bed. She picked it up and went through its contents while thinking of excuses to tell her friend about not finding the envelope.
She found a blue sealed envelope in the box, at the bottom. On top, it said ‘for your eyes only’. Ah, she had found it at last. She called her friend and told her. She was strangely curious about its contents, so she asked her friend. She told Z to open it, she didn’t mind, and that she’d come for it in a few hours.
Z ripped it open, not very gently, and found a map. It wasn’t a world map, or a school map; it was a map of her library in the drawing room. She marveled at how accurate the picture was. Her friend had made a solid picture of the 300 plus books with the names and colours. Z was happy but so confused. She turned the ‘map’ over to find numbers, seemingly randomly placed. ‘1,7’; ‘2,9’; ‘6,18’.
She frowned in concentration before coming to a vague conclusion. She went to the shelf and picked up the seventh book on the first rack. Turns out she was right, it had a note.
‘I worked hard on this, don’t you dare give up.’
Z grinned and moved on until she got to the last note. They were all a bunch of sappy, cheesy, sarcastic notes, the last one told her to meet her friend in her house. She gathered the notes, put them in a bag, took it and drove to her friend’s house.
Without a word, she led Z to her own room. Z was hyperventilating, she couldn’t believe her eyes; it was a typewriter with one final note taped to it.
‘I hope you go places. Find where your mind wants to go, convince your heart it’s a good idea, and move your feet to get there.’